


A Conversation I Just Can't Have Tonight

by ladyofdecember



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Anxiety, Drabble, Family Drama, Gen, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, M/M, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 18:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16728390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember
Summary: Rusty and Brock have a conversation about Hank's disappearance.





	A Conversation I Just Can't Have Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [danvssomethingorother](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danvssomethingorother/gifts).



> Based on another Tumblr prompt, "It’s over, it’s done, just leave it be” with Brusty.
> 
> I am actively taking fanfic commissions for basically any and all fandoms. If you'd like to commission me for a fic let me know! I'm up for anything. Tumblr handle is also ladyofdecember! Or you can check out my ko-fi page which is ladyofdecember. <3

It was getting late, nearly after 10:30pm now, as Rusty slowly paced the space of their living room.

It had been seven days since his near death experience with The Guild, with their holding him hostage and all but forcing The Monarch to basically execute him. Seven days since he’d bitterly stopped speaking to his “bodyguard”. Seven days since their son had disappeared without a trace.

The reflection of the moonlight outside cascaded down through the massive floor to ceiling windows all around him. The man shook his head as he paced, muttering to himself as he did so, unable to contain the storm that was brewing within.

Upstairs, Dean sat quietly on his/his brother’s/now his bed once more. The teen had been shaken by the news possibly the worst of all, insistent on sleeping at home rather than at the dorms until his twin had returned. Rusty wondered if it had more to do with his roommate rather than missing his brother but he refrained from commenting none the less.

A few creaks from the staircase alerted the scientist to his own college roommate’s presence. He leveled a sour look at the blonde before directing his pacing towards the mini bar in the far corner. Pouring himself a glass of red wine, Rusty waited obstinately for the man to speak.

“Doc, you can’t keep doing this.”

With a roll of his eyes, the bald man began devouring his glass, intent on continuing to ignore the man before him. He headed past the broad shouldered bodyguard, determined to seek some peace and quiet outside instead.

Pushing open the glass door and stepping down on to the chilly concrete, the familiar sound of footsteps trailed from behind him. He let out a frustrated scoff of disgust that ballooned out in to the air in front of him, the warmth of his breath clouding the winter air.

Rusty settled down into one of the plastic pool chairs, ignoring the way the cold plastic stung the thin skin of his arms.

Brock lingered over him just staring down, an unhappy look settled on his face. The scientist hadn’t been sleeping like… at all. It had been days since he’d even gone upstairs to his room, preferring to toil around down in the lab or anxiously roam about the living room and kitchen.

Glancing up at him with a pinched look, Rusty took another sip of his wine. “Is there something you need?”

“I don’t think it’s healthy for you to keep avoiding sleep like this.”

“Oh, what do you care?!” He snapped and shot up from his seat to head back inside.

Brock glared daggers at his retreating form. “Is this still about the fucking Guild?”

He knew it wasn’t, deep down, of course it wasn’t but let him play his games. It was a necessity, like always.

Rusty shot back around, a bit of wine hitting the pavement and staining. Brock stared at it distastefully. “Oh, you mean the night you basically abandoned me to the lion’s den?”

“I came to get you, you jackass! I had to lock down the tower to get rid of all those fucking henchmen. And then I came and got you!”

The scientist didn’t look convinced, standing there sipping his wine as the cold wind whipped around them. Brock’s eyes momentarily flickered towards their outdoor bar. He could use a drink too. If the man was going to be like this, it was going to be a long night.

Brock sighed, rolling his shoulders back tiredly as his eyes made their way back to the bespectacled man’s. “I’m sorry you think I didn’t care or that I abandoned you there with them but nothing could be further from the truth.”

The man then turned to brush past the scientist to go back inside. Unbeknownst to both of them, Dean sat pensively at his bedroom window peering down below, taking in the interaction.

Just as Brock had reached the door, tired of standing around in the winter weather, a solemn and distraught Rusty spoke up once more. “If you would’ve come sooner… he’d still be here. We… could have went and got him.”

The muscular man let all the tension drain from his shoulders, his arms, let his neck roll back and forth a moment. He sighed heavily and turned back around to take in the stance of the man. He was still facing away from him, his slumped posture indicating he felt a fatigue beyond measurement.

“It’s over, it’s done, just leave it be.” Brock shrugged, not wanting to have this conversation again.

The man blamed him, blamed himself, for Hank leaving.

Maybe if they’d heard news of Hank sooner, if they’d gotten to the hospital, sure, maybe he wouldn’t have taken off. But Brock knew Hank like he knew the back of his hand. Like he was his blood. He was the closest thing he would ever get to it.

And he knew that even if Hank hadn’t left then, he would have later on. He would have snuck out his bedroom window in the middle of the night later that week, satisfied with the slumbering of all souls within the penthouse. His leaving had seemingly been executed abruptly but had always been a notion in the boy’s mind. Brock knew that much.

Feeling a sharp pain surge through his heart at how badly the man blamed himself, blamed him, he stepped forward to touch his shoulder lightly. Rusty tensed under the pressure but immediately submitted. He took in a shuddering breath and though the man couldn’t see his face, he could hear, he knew he was crying.

He removed his grip and Rusty turned quickly to face him and launch himself into his bodyguard’s waiting arms. Rusty clinged to him tightly, his face pressed up against that muscular chest, eyes shut tight.

And for a while nothing happened, just the gentle, rhythmic in and out of the blonde man’s breathing, his strong arms embracing the scientist and trying to comfort his broken heart.

Slowly, the shorter man’s cries seemed to settle until only the tears stained across Brock’s navy blue turtleneck remained. Rusty pulled back a bit to glance at the man’s passive expression.

“I’m sorry. It’s… not your fault.” He muttered, feeling small.

“It’s not yours.” Brock added gently.

The two stared at each other quietly, their eyes saying a thousand words and neither really able to convey anything else out loud. Upstairs, Dean slowly lowered his blinds and turned away from the window.


End file.
